Kryos, 8th of Caldris (Hethday), 1675, Evening
They set up camp within sight of the smoke clouds puffing up from the city off in the distance. As Kryos finished hanging his harness and putting his shield and mace into the wagon, he asked, “What’s the name of it?”
Leona finished raising the wheels to their locked-in-place position. “The Crossing. It’s real name is Valleyview. The official name is prettier than what it should be called. Hand me that pin there.”
They went through the now-familiar routine: wheels raised, pins locked, ratchets eased down, wagon settled into home mode. “What’s the story behind it?” he asked as he got back into the wagon to grab their supplies for their meal.
Leona stayed at the wagon door and said, “It’s an old crossroads. Long time ago, I think, it was an old ford. Eventually two bridges were built to cross, joined at a place called ‘The Split’. The town built up alongside it.”
Kryos slipped past her, she grabbed the brazier and charcoal, and the two set up their cookfire as he set to work making a stew with some of the salted meat and hardtack with water from the nearby river. One of the barges, with some crew, moved up the river past them—not even sparing a single glance at the duo—as they attached a metal hook to the ever-moving chain powered by the many water wheels they had passed along the riverside.
“There’s the north side,” Leona continued, “where the city hall and administrative stuff is. Fancy people. We’ll have to get to that side to head to the forest region where being called to Rifts is probably going to be more likely, just given how few people live there. The south side is where we’ll enter from, which is like the lower-class side of things.”
Kryos looked to the south, where vast plains stretched off to the horizon. “What’s out that way?”
“Just farmlands and the like,” Leona replied. “I’m going to catch some fish to add to the stew.” She moved back to the wagon, and came back with her towel and the metal rod to hold it off the ground.
Kryos kept his gaze averted out of respect and focused on the stew, making sure to keep stirring so the hardtack wouldn’t clump as it dissolved and turned to mush. The past few days had been boring during the day, but the evenings and mornings had been nice. He’d slept well, and Leona’s company was . . . pleasant. She was kind, and their conversations hadn’t been shallow.
Their talk last night, where he had learned a bit about her family and upbringing. Learning that a high-Tier dragon might be living in Shhiv’s Spear sent shivers down his spine. If this Lossris was indeed that Tier, then she would be just below Kryos’ mom in power. That was terrifying.
I do not want to go there anytime soon, Kryos thought. If I were to cross paths with her . . . I have no idea what would happen.
Instead of keeping his thoughts on that, he turned his mind to what their short jaunt through this new city, The Crossing, would bring. He would not be going into the place with a positive reputation of helping people like with Suncrest due to saving the miners. He would be a half-dragon, outfitted in heavy armor, hauling a wagon and if asked, claiming to be a Guildmaster of a mobile Adventuring Guild.
Kryos mentally steeled himself for the scorn he would face, and mulled over his mom and dad’s words. In Suncrest, his dad’s words had rung true—people seemed mostly good at their heart. But circumstances might have led to that specific outcome and turnout of events.
Leona came over with her towel wrapped around her body and handed Kryos two cleaned, gutted, and ready-to-cook fish. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” Kryos mumbled as he flicked a claw out and sliced the fish into chunks.
She didn’t move like normal, prompting him to look up at her from his crouched position. “Silver for your thoughts?”
Kryos smirked at that. “Like you’d give up a silver,” he replied. It had become their little joke in the last few days to coax something out of the other. He let out a little sigh. “I’m just worried about tomorrow.” He gestured to the river. “Those folks, and all the other people on the boats who have passed by . . . they’ve just ignored us.”
“Probably didn’t even give us a second glance,” Leona replied. “Why would they? We’re just two travelers.”
“We didn’t pass anyone on the road either,” Kryos commented as he finished slicing one fish up and moved onto the next. “So we don’t know how people will react to me.”
Leona kept her towel firm around her torso and top-half of her lower body, but leaned forward a bit so she was closer to his eye level. “It’s just us passing through a town. That’s it. I’ll have to pull some coin out for the toll, but it’ll be quick.” She put a hand on his cheek and gave him a few small, friendly, almost playful slaps, then stood up. “It’ll be fine.” She turned and headed to the wagon to dress out for sleeping.
Kryos turned back to the stew pot and finished his task, then sat back on his rump and looked up at the now-emerging stars. “I hope you’re right,” he whispered.
Kryos, 9th of Caldris (Ilday), 1675, Morning
The packed dirt road, which had been grown over with grass and weeds, became fully packed dirt once more under Kryos’ clawed feet as they approached the town. This was what Kryos envisioned when his dad and mom told him stories of cities. The outskirts here were similar to Suncrest’s edges—single-story buildings made of wood that looked to be one-room domiciles, where tenants might live for the cheapest existence, or maybe temporary workers were housed.
This part of the shanty town was packed with workers—more people than Kryos had ever seen before. They were wearing rag-worn and threadbare clothing that denoted a level of poverty he had not yet witnessed: they looked worn down and bedraggled, the type of people who scraped by on the worst of the worst types of jobs, whose hands were calloused and cracked from hard manual labor.
Farther past were buildings like what was at Suncrest’s center; they were stone structures that had multiple rooms, slanted, tiled roofs, and the road began to shift to cobble-stone instead of packed dirt. Even farther beyond that, the buildings became two-story as they approached the town proper. The river banks were no longer open to dirt, rocks, sand and stone: it was now cluttered with docks, warehouses, boats that clattered against their wooden pylons, and shouting people who were arguing, cursing, or coordinating.
I wish my feet could accommodate boots, Kryos thought as he stepped into something foul and left it squelch into the space between his claws. The entire town reeked compared to Suncrest and the wilderness outside of the city, and to his enhanced sense of smell, it was cloying and he wished he had something to tie around his face to keep the scents away. The scent of unwashed people—not the sweat of an honest days’ work but from people who had just gone unwashed for days or possibly weeks—assaulted him and threatened him with retching.
As the buildings grew tighter-packed, and the duo entered the city—in fact on the entire approach—Kryos felt two distinct things. First, his treasure sense was going off again. He could feel it, a subtle heat in his torso, flickering in multiple directions. It wasn’t like when had first been teleported by the Drakemount, how it was an all-encompassing itch that needed scratching. His body seemed to have acclimated, and now he could differentiate larger from smaller sources of value, and hone in on them to determine direction and somewhat gauge distance—though it was pure guesswork since he hadn’t really set up any type of environment to test it out.
But second and more importantly he felt the eyes of people judging him once more. Not just eyes but words, as the whispers, mutterings, and outright blunt conversation and topics whirled about him. Leona had told him that this city was at least ten-times as large as Suncrest in population, if not more since when she had last come through, given how population tended to expand outward given the ever-expanding world. Kryos had never been around so many people. The sheer number of voices, variety of Species that he’d never seen before, was stupefying.
Yet there was one common theme: they all judged.
“What is that?” a person who looked like a snake with no legs but two arms jutting from a torso asked.
The person they were talking to, a human with avian features and arms that doubled as wings, replied, “I think it’s a dragon.”
“Harpy shit.”
“Hey! Don’t you dare bring my mother into this!”
Yet more actually correctly identified Kryos and what he was.
A Darkling, like the miner union leader Trork, said, “A half-dragon? I thought they were legend.”
The stares continued as they trudged on toward where Leona directed him. The murmurs continued; people had only heard of Kryos’ species, and never seen one. The rumors and stories seemed to hold true here, as well, because Kryos saw a handful of children who were out with parents pulled closer to them.
A guard who overheard began to walk alongside Kryos, still several feet away, and the newly-minted Guildmaster glanced at the man. “Hi,” Kryos said, trying to sound pleasant.
“Are you?” the guard asked. He was a large man with a pair of antlers growing out of his head, and a bushy tail poking out of the back of his armor: armor that was a light blue, and he had a green cloak flung over one shoulder as he held a spear in his hand.
“Am I what?” Kryos asked.
“A half-dragon?”
“He is,” Leona replied from above. “And we are just passing through.”
The guard gave Kryos a hard look and then hustled ahead of him. Kryos glanced back at Leona as he slowed his pace.
She seemed to read his mind. “Just keep going. We’ll cross the bridges, pay the tolls, and be on our way.”
The buildings that had been two-story fell away as they reached a massive town square that was paved. To his right, leading south, was a cobblestone road, where lines of carts led back into the distance, laden with trade goods. Clusters of herd animals were gathered together in corrals, seemingly ready to be sold, or perhaps already sold and waiting for pickup. If Kryos were to keep going forward across the town square, he would continue into more of the city with its multi-story buildings, which seemed to be just like what he had passed through—shops, residences, and other places one needed in a city.
To his left was what Leona had warned him about, and the place that he dreaded because it meant he would be in a confined space, and would have to part with coin. ‘The Split’. A huge bridge, which connected to the central island of that name, which is where the main market was. To cross the bridge, they would have to pay a toll—a hefty one he did not want to pay, but would need to.
It’s okay, he thought as he kept pulling as Leona turned the steering column, and he led the way to one of the ‘enter’ lines for expedited entry. We’ll make so much more money from the Rifts that we should get called to near that forested region.
The bridge had two directions of traffic: one for each direction, and multiple lanes to enter. To Kryos’ right was the long line of farmers and livestock herders who were waiting at the lower cost. He made for the more expensive entry juncture. The bridge itself was an incredible feat of architecture—easily one-hundred feet, with almost no upward bend, and with ornate side railing that gave an appearance of delicate raindrops between the support struts.
Kryos walked up to the toll booth, nodding to one of the four guards, and then stopped at the booth window. A bored-looking woman all-but recoiled once she saw Kryos, whose head was at the window height despite not being seated on a cart. “Hi there,” Kryos said. “I need to pay for entry.”
She took a moment to gain her composure, then nodded, and tapped a sign that hung up next to her. “Three silver.”
Kryos already had the coin in his Trader’s Pouch which was secure around his torso—in fact, he had taken fifty silver out of the vault, because they would need to stock up on some supplies while they were in town—and as he reached into it, he felt that same sensation he’d struggled with before. As he pulled the coins out, he held them out to the woman, and breathed deeply as he forced his fingers open.
He and Leona had been working on that between conversations in the morning and evening. Kryos still despised spending money, but he was able to—reluctantly—let go of coins for necessities. Still, it left a roiling heat in his gut.
The woman took the three silver and handed him a slip of pink-colored paper. “Here you are. Keep this on you.”
“Thanks,” Kryos replied as he kept walking forward. His clawed feet clacked on the bridge as he hauled their wagon forward. A loud ding reverberated right behind him, almost making him jump. He looked back, and saw it was just a bell at the back of the toll house, signaling that he had gone through. Possibly to signal the guards on the other side? To let them know he hadn’t run past without paying? Kryos didn’t know—but the sound was jarring.
‘The Split’ was a one-thousand foot long and six-hundred foot wide jut of land that split the river in twain. The bridge they were traveling upon ended at another toll window, but it seemed like it was more-so just there to make sure that people who departed the island had paid for the goods or services they were actually leaving with, as Kryos saw people who were heading in his direction handing ledgers to the guards, and observed clerks going into wagons to check those ledgers against purchases.
“They make sure everything is really secure, huh?” Kryos asked.
“They have to make sure they get their cut on taxes,” Leona replied. “Everything bought or sold on the island has to be taxed by the vendor. So if we were selling stuff, the person paying us would take a portion of our pay cut and give it to the city. The receipt check is to make sure we’re not dodging the tax.”
More taxes, Kryos internally grumbled as they entered the island proper, and he felt the paved stone give way to packed dirt once more. I understand the need for it, but I despise it.
The sounds surrounding him were varied and distinct. He could hear bells from the various vessels docking and signaling to be unloaded, the clattering of logs that were chained together and floating downriver as people poled them down with hooked rods, and the thumping of wood upon wood as crates were stacked and unstacked from warehouses and placed elsewhere. The shouts of purveyors and vendors hawking their wares echoed all around, and the murmuring of the crowd was a constant.
Leona steered the cart toward an area designated for parking them while trade was to be done, and as they were directed by a city guard to a spot, Kryos could feel the crowd’s noises beginning to settle down. He knew that they were staring at him, and he tried to ignore them as best he could.
As he turned to address the guard, the man rudely turned away and looked up at Leona. “Your beast of burden here needs to be kept on a tight leash.”
How dare you? Kryos thought, rage flickering to life in his gut. I’m a Drakemount-damned dragon, you pissant of a human! My Species are the apex predator of all realities!
Leona must have noticed the look of rage on his face, as she raised a hand and gently lowered it, palm down, as if gesturing for him to lower . . . something. She then addressed the man. “He’s not a beast of burden. He is the Guildmaster of Dragontrail, the first ever mobile Adventuring Guild.”
Kryos removed himself from his harness and hung it up, snagged his shield and mace from the front of the cart, slung the shield onto his back and socketed the mace into his belt loop, and walked over to the guard. The man, seemingly sensing the much larger half-dragon next to him, turned, and a flicker of fear crossed his face. Kryos kept his voice low and all-but growled, “We’re just stocking up on supplies. We’ll be out of your city shortly.”
The guard briskly moved to guide the next cart to its appropriate spot, and Leona atop her perch slid the steering and brake columns into their hidden locked positions. “We shouldn’t need to drop it down,” she said as she clambered down to join Kryos on the ground. “No one can steer or unlock the breaks.”
Kryos nodded and glanced at the crowd who was now going back to business, but several people were giving him glances amongst the stalls and tents. “I . . . I might have lost my temper there.”
Leona shrugged. “The guy was an ass. You just looked terrifying and enraged.” She patted his bicep. “Come on, we have shopping to do. You have your list?”
Kryos nodded and reached into his Trader’s Pouch, pulling out the sheet she had given him. “Yeah, got it here.” He sighed. “The less time here, the better.”
They were planning to be up near the forest region called The Oakenlands for a while, and the closest city up there was on its eastern edge, closer to the coast, called Reachwood. Getting there from their current location, if they just took the road, would take two months. That didn’t count the time they wanted to spend near the forest region itself, hoping for a call of a Rift. They would need a lot more supplies for a long stay away from civilization.
“Good. Trust me, if I go off on my own, haggling will be a lot easier. Just get those bulk items. Meet back here in an hour.” Leona turned toward the north and pointed. “See that clock tower over there?”
Kryos squinted, and was barely able to make out the top of a building that she pointed to. “Sort of.”
“Well, when that hits the next hour, meet back here. Or earlier.”
Kryos nodded. “Will do. I won’t be useless in a market.”
He saw her slight frown as he called back to her comment from the morning before, when they had talked about the shopping plan. She was going to get the more expensive items since she could haggle, and when he had asked why, she had bluntly said, “You need to be able to buy supplies without me holding your hand if Dragontrail is going to work. You can’t be useless in a market. Plus, if people react how we expect, then having you towering behind me isn’t going to help me charm them.”
Leona turned on her heel, headed to the market, and vanished into the crowd without a trace, as if being in a city was just as natural to her as being in the water.
Kryos looked down at his list, then up at the tents and stalls. Another wagon was led into the spot next to him, and the guard who was guiding the farmer that was bringing his foodstuffs into the marketplace, the same guard who had pointedly ignored him, glared at him. Kryos just gave him a half-smile.
The guard’s face went pale, and he turned away.
It took a moment for Kryos to realize why. He was half-turned to the man, and he had sharp canines. That half-smile probably revealed those longer, sharper teeth in an intimidating fashion.
Stupid, Kryos, stupid.
He sighed and headed into the marketplace. The whispers and mutterings kept coming. Kryos could almost feel the palpable aura of dread that he invoked as he walked through the crowd, as people seemed to part and give him some space—not that he needed it, as he was almost a head taller than the next-tallest person, and could see the stall names with ease. Going to a person who sold travel rations, he ducked his head down and cleared his throat. “Pardon me.”
A stout woman with beady eyes looked at him, and didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest by him being a half-dragon. “Whatcha want?”
“I need salted, cured, or dried meat.”
She reached under the counter-top and pulled out a basket, filled with all different types of meats. “We got a variety. Tell me how much of what type.” Kryos checked his slip, and ordered a mix that would meet their meat needs. The woman then turned around, fussed about with some crates, and came back with a filled burlap sack. “They’re separated by type in smaller sacks within.”
Kryos reluctantly parted with the silver he had to, again feeling that heated roil in his gut, and then hefted the bag onto his shoulder. “Thank you.” He stepped away from the stall and went back to the cart, unlocked the back, and tossed it in before locking it once more.
One down, four to go.
Kryos went back to the market, purchased the other items he needed to, and returned. But on his third out of the five total trips, he heard something weird. A few people from the Highpeak Mining Company were talking about a recent ore shipment from Suncrest.
“It’s weird,” one of them commented. “The ingots seem a bit more brittle, as if the quality is dropping.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Another person with a wooden board and padlet, inspecting ingots on a cloth, sighed. “That vein they found was ninety-eight percent pure, correct?”
“That’s what the report was.”
“That’s the rarest purity we’ve seen out of raw ore. Perhaps the process is off because the purity is so high. They just need to recalibrate.”
“Well, there are reports of deeper veins with an odd, green hue to the silver. Some folks are starting to call it ‘soft silver’.”
“Rather strange.”
Kryos finished that third trip, and finished his fourth. On his fifth, he had to go to the farthest edge away from the carts, seeking out something Leona really wanted.
Why in the name of the Drakemount do we need tarpaulin and glue? he thought. I have no idea what she wants this for.
Some vendors who didn’t brush him off, react with fear, or outright disgust and jeers, had pointed him toward some of these ship supply vendors, and as Kryos approached one of the permanent buildings, he heard a voice from behind him.
“Hey! Half-dragon!” It was male, and sounded authoritative.
Kryos turned around. Definitely a man, some type of Human-half-something, judging by the pale red skin and deep, green eyes. He was dressed in clothes that looked like they were once fine but had been handed down and not very well kept, had a short sword on one hip, and was flanked by two other half-Human-somethings who were similarly dressed. Those, however, were armed with clubs and hooks.
I assume thieves, Kryos thought. His dad had told him about those types of people, and Leona had warned him that he might come across such a crowd while they were in town. Glancing to his front, he saw another two. Five in total. Terrific. Quickly toggling his HUD, he was relieved to see that they were all Tier II, and a mix of Rogue and Brigand, with one marked as a Tier III and something called a Shadowhand. Ah, damn. That’s not good. It meant that, for the Rouges, just like Leona, they would hit harder the higher their Agility was than their target.
And Kryos had low Agility.
No Singularity Stance, then, he thought, knowing it would reduce his Agility farther. They’d just hit me harder.
Kryos cleared his throat. “What is it you want?” he asked, keeping his voice low and in its growl range.
That seemed to make one of the cronies flanking the leader balk, but the leader, still sounding brash and bold, said, “See, we heard one of you were around. Half-dragons, bad for business. Greedy, bringing bad luck, warmongers. Can’t have that, no sir. In fact, your money should be spent here—all of it, for the good of the city—everyone agrees. So why don’t you give us that little Trader’s Pouch you got there, and we’ll let you go back to your wagon?”
Kryos’ mom’s words flickered into his mind. “If they fear you, use that fear to control them . . . only care about what they think about you insofar as how you can use that to your advantage . . . If they fear you, use that.” He grinned, and made sure to bare his teeth in the action, which made the cronies step back. With a thought, he activated Pressure Field II, and the dirt kicked up around them, the dust floating in the air, the spray from the river kicked off the rocks nearby—all of it slammed to the ground as the gravitic pressure increased.
“You really want to test me?” Kryos said as he looked at the two behind him. “I am the Guildmaster of Dragontrail. A half-dragon, just like in the legends. You know those ones, right? Warlords, brigands, powerful fighters.” He let his fingers drift toward his mace’s hilt. “I’ve killed monsters the size of houses,” he said, intentionally inflating his accomplishments—it wasn’t like these lesser Species could figure out the truth.
The thought came across in his mom’s voice as he thought it, not his own, or his dad’s—but it didn’t bother him in the slightest to think of these people in that way.
“Boss,” one of the cronies with the hook whispered loud enough for Kryos to hear. “I don’t know about this.”
The boss pulled their short sword. “If he hurts us, the Bridge Guard will punish him. So he has to give up his coin. He’s between a rock and a hard place.”
Kryos let his hand fall away from his mace. Damnit, he thought, I lose either way.
Then, he saw movement behind the trio. A familiar shape. Leona. She snagged something from each of the three people’s belts.
The two behind Kryos shouted, “Boss! You’re being picked!”
The boss reacted, spinning around, but Leona was already off and running. “Get back here you bitch!” the boss roared as Leona darted off.
Kryos couldn’t help but laugh as the trio took off.
He deactivated Pressure Field and went to finish his shopping, but as he turned around, the two behind him were still there. One of them said, “Finish your shopping, then, we follow you back to your wagon, and take inventory.” They tapped their short sword. “Remember, half-dragon, you do anything to us, we cry for the guard, and they will side with us.”
Kryos was seething at the threat, but decided to try and play along for now. He had an idea for how to shake them. “Fine,” he said as he pointed past them. “I need to go that way.”
The two of them stood apart to give him a wide berth, and then Kryos moved past them. He found the shop he needed, and was able to buy the tarpaulin and glue with ease. Holding the bundle under his arm, and with the glue pot secure in his Trader’s Pouch, he went back the way he came, shadowed by the two criminal escorts.
He got back to the wagon, set everything down on the ground, and then leaned back against it. The two brigands stood nearby, leaning against a cart, and kept their eyes on him. “As soon as the boss shows up,” one said, “You’re opening that wagon for us.”
Kryos kept his mouth shut, and just looked over at one of the guards nearby. He was about to say something, but the guard looked at the thugs, and there was some look exchanged—that was all Kryos needed to see. They were either being paid off, or given a cut of the loot, or something else unsavory. They were being protected in some way.
Leona arrived a few minutes later, smiling proudly, a bag over her shoulder. “Done and done. Mind getting the door, Guildmaster?”
“We’re being watched,” Kryos said.
“Hmm?”
Kryos nudged in the direction of the two observers with his chin, and Leona turned around. “Well, that’s not good,” she replied.
Kryos saw two of the three that had been led away by Leona push through some of the crowd nearby at the market stalls and tents, and as they pushed past, seething with anger and huffing in breaths from their exertion, the crowd began to slow their activities and turn to watch.
“Shit,” Leona said as she turned, putting her back to the cart and crossing her arms, hands drifting to her weapon hilts. “I thought I lost them.”
That duo stopped next to the two that had followed Kryos. They conversed at a low whisper while the leader who had spoken first and called Leona a bitch was leaning over, recovering his breath. Then, he finally stood up. “You bitch, should’ve figured a sticky-fingered sea-elf would be working with the half-dragon. You’re all alike, you greedy fuckers.”
“Sea-elves?” Leona asked with mock affront. “Just because we’re better with our money than . . . what was it you called out as you were running after me? Mud grips? Stupid name.”
“Mudhooks,” one of the other robbers said.
People who were attending to their carts—whether packing up or arriving, guards overseeing the operation included—were slowing their activity and partly observing, but seeming to mind their business. They were just like the crowd, turning into an audience that was waiting for the eruption of violence, but not willing to do anything to stop it.
“Ah, right,” Leona said. “Mudhooks. Well, anyways, you should really keep an eye on your coin purses. I swear, that child cutpurse who took your bags went that way,” she pointed off into the distance. “It wasn’t me. Pretty sure it was another type of elf.”
The leader took a few steps forward, and Kryos made sure he was standing at his full height, but the thug seemed undeterred. “You’re going to pay.”
Kryos frowned, and whispered, “Leona, what’s the play?”
“I think we—” she let out a little cry and then was silent.
Kryos snapped his attention to his right, and saw the fifth of the thugs—one of the two that had run off with the leader and hadn’t emerged from the crowd, the Tier III Shadowhand—appeared from the shadows between their wagon and the cart nearby, grabbed her mouth from behind, and put a knife along her throat.
Kryos panicked, and felt his heart racing.
The leader let out a chuckle. “Now then, half-man, you’re going to open that pretty fancy wagon, and we’re going to take inventory. You know, check everything, and make sure it all is up to snuff. Inspection, as it were. Or else your pretty little plaything here is going to be having a little accident, and we’ll make sure the guards know exactly who is responsible—mister evil dragon.”
Kryos felt that rage still boiling in him, and yet felt helpless at the same time. Leona’s eyes were wild with panic, and he could tell that she was terrified at the thought of dying as the knife pressed against her flesh. Kryos had no choice. He grabbed the key from around his neck, and heard the lead thug walking up behind him. But, Kryos kept the side of his eye on Leona.
He saw the knife starting to slip as the thug anticipated their big score. It was an opening, an opportunity that he had to save his friend and keep them from losing everything they’d worked so hard towards. Kryos began to move the key to the lock, and as the knife pulled an inch away from Leona’s flesh, he took action.
Kryos moved before the thoughts of his actions finished forming in his head. He activated, Pressure Field, and the area slammed down, pushing the blade farther away from Leona’s neck from the sudden increase in gravity. His left hand shot between the knife and Leona’s throat. The blade scraped across his scales with a metal shriek instead of opening her neck. He hooked his fingers around the far side of her collarbone—not her throat, as best he could—and yanked her into his chest.
He really didn’t have another choice and he just had to hope he didn’t hurt her with the maneuver. He heard the short sword unsheath behind him, and let Leona go as he spun around. He could only hope that she had the wherewithal from the rapid move to dip down, get low, and move away. The sword came swinging in, and he grabbed the blade with his left hand.
It cut into his palm a tiny bit, as his scales were almost armor on their own, and as a dribble of purple blood dripped down. The thug who was now to his right, who had grabbed Leona, came in with a stab, and the weapon pinged off of his earth dragon scale covered chestplate.
Reactively, Kryos backhanded the man with his right hand, sending him careening back into another wagon with a crunch. When he hit, he folded wrong, with bones cracking and bending in ways Kryos hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t like striking a monster, who could take a hit and keep fighting, or like him, who could keep dishing out punishment despite being injured. This was just a person, meat, flesh, and bones, without the sturdiness of an Anchor.
Just as fragile as Leona.
The thug leader tried to pull the blade away, but Kryos yanked it from their hand, threw it down, reached forward, grabbed their shoulder, and brought their face in for a headbutt.
Crack!
The leader reeled back. Kryos barely registered the impact. The leader’s three remaining minions rushed in with weapons raised, and Kryos did as his dad had taught him to do—raised his hands into a Pugilist’s stance. Rylos, famous Maestro or not, had done his share of tavern fighting, and he had made sure Kryos knew how to use his body when weapons failed. While the Mudhooks drew weapons, the half-dragon knew he had scales and claws that were more than a match.
A club came in on his left, and he took the blow on his forearm, the vambrace of his armor taking the blow with ease. He just shoved that thug back, and they staggered a few steps off balance. The two others came in with a long hook of some type that might be used for moving boxes hauled by rope, and a short sword, respectively. Kryos let the sword hit his armor, and caught the hook—he really didn’t want to see what that felt like. The sword bounced off of the earth dragon scale covered breastplate, and the one who he caught the hook-weapon of, he managed to catch at the grip. Their hand was in his. He squeezed.
Crunch!
That thug let out a scream, and Kryos let them go. I barely even applied pressure, Kryos thought as they took several steps back.
By that point, the leader had recovered, and he looked at the nearby guard. “He assaulted us! The half-dragon’s doing like what they all do in the stories! Attacking people, stealing their money!” They pointed an accusatory finger at Kryos. “Just look in his wagon! I bet you’ll find a ton of stolen stuff!”
Shit, Kryos thought. I just played right into their trap.
The guards responded rapidly, and Kryos found himself on the receiving end of two spears as they moved over. “Stop, beast!”
He slowly raised his hands. “I was just defending myself and my property,” Kryos said. “And my ally,” he added. He dropped his Skill.
Leona, thankfully, didn’t appear injured, as she stood up next to Kryos, on his left. She whispered, “Don’t apologize too much.” Then, she spoke louder. “Why didn’t you step in when those guys were accosting us?”
The guards glanced at each other, but didn’t answer her question.
Kryos knew why. It’s because I’m easy prey, he thought. Either that, or these Mudhook folks are a known criminal element, allowed to operate, and giving a kickback to the guard, so they operate with a certain level of freedom. It’s either blatant corruption, or just the guards being fine with them giving me a hard time because I’m a half-dragon.
The rest of the Mudhooks recovered, and dragged their unconscious fellow over to the open space behind their wagon. All of them were glaring, but despite their pained expressions, a current of triumph undercut their expressions.
One of the guards, voice firm, said, “You’re going to come with us and speak to the magistrate, right now!”
Leona shook her head. “This was clearly a case of self-defense. Everyone here saw it!” She looked pointedly at a nearby farmer, who was sitting up on his cart, and had seen the whole thing. “Didn’t you, old timer? I know you were watching the whole time!”
The man sheepishly looked away. “I ain’t seen nothing.”
Leona looked around at the crowd. “Well? There were more of you watching! You saw it!”
A vendor started to pack up. A younger teenager who began to speak up had their mouth covered by their grandparent and was ushered away. Someone else said out loud, “Serves you right, half-breed! All the stories are true! No one wants your type!”
Damnit, Kryos thought. If we can’t get any witnesses, maybe we can use our position?
Kryos pointed to the front of their vehicle. “I am the Guildmaster of Dragontrail. Our Quest Board is on the front of our wagon. We just came here for supplies, and are leaving today.”
The guards looked at each other again, and the one on the right gestured with his spear. “Show us.”
Leona walked around the side of the wagon and pointed to the Quest Board at the front with the harness setup hung below. Kryos made sure he stayed at the back, next to the wagon door, standing over their remaining supplies needing to be loaded, but glanced back at her, and then at the Mudhooks, keeping an eye between the two groups.
Leona turned to face the guards. “Registered Adventuring Guild. Licensed Quest Board. Armed assault against a Guildmaster. Attempted seizure of Guild property. And, two guards who watched until the half-dragon started winning.” She tapped her foot a few times as the guards began to look panicked. “Dereliction of duty? You know how much people in power hate seeing registered Adventurers in the Quest Conclave injured or their interests harmed.”
The guards went still, and Kryos couldn’t hide his smirk. He looked at the Mudhooks, whose expressions shifted to one of concern.
Leona kept speaking, “So, do you want us to report your actions to this town magistrate, and get the local Adventuring Guild involved? What would they think about the local guard not assisting another Guild? You think they would want to do Quests for you in the future? I doubt it.”
The two guards raised their spears. “Right, this never happened. Move through. Now. And don’t stop until you’re gone past city limits.” The two men walked past Kryos, with neither paying him any heed, and walked up to the Mudhooks. One of the guards spoke to the leader, and Kryos barely overheard him say, “Get out of here. We’ll talk later. Choose better marks next time.”
“How was I supposed to know they were a Guildmaster?” the leader asked as the Mudhooks took their unconscious ally away.
The crowd began to shift back to their usual routines and patterns, and the two Adventurers were, thankfully, allowed to fade into the backdrop of the city.
Leona let out a sigh of relief, and looked at Kryos. “Let’s hurry. Put that stuff into the wagon, get in that harness and let’s get out of here.”
Kryos didn’t need to be told twice. They put the supplies into the wagon and locked it. He hung his shield, slotted his mace, got into the harness, and once Leona unlocked the steering and brake column, he pushed them back onto the main thoroughfare and then they turned and he pulled them to the checkpoint leading north.
They had to stop, and Leona had to let one of the guards and clerks check their purchases, but once that was done, the duo didn’t stop until they were across the other large town square—which also saw carts waiting to enter the town.
The two were silent as the sun crested overhead and into midday, and they kept going north until they were well past the city and its outskirts. Finally, as they were solidly alone, with only the occasional cart passing every thirty minutes or so, Kryos asked, “What was all that legal sounding stuff about?”
“Later,” Leona replied.
Kryos glanced back and saw she had a bit of a misty look to her eyes. “Do we need to stop?”
She shook her head. “Just keep going.”
Kryos did as she said. He played over the incident of that town again in his mind. He had encountered the prejudice he expected, and couldn’t follow his dad’s advice like in Suncrest. But his mom’s advice had come in handy.
If they’re incorrigible like those people, Kryos thought as he put one foot in front of the other, I just need to be what they think I am. They want the cruel warlord from stories and legends who plunders and pillages? The one that strikes fear into hearts? That’s what they’ll get. If someone is decent to me, I’ll be kind to them.
Another thought struck a chord in his mind.
Maybe some of the people there only treated me with neutrality or decency because of that fear . . . maybe they were afraid of what I could do if they were on my bad side . . . I’ll have to think on using that . . .
Night fell, and the two went about their routine to set the wagon down on the ground on the side of the road—a good fifty feet away. There wasn’t any river, so the two had to tap into their water crate for the first time. Leona was quiet the whole time, and Kryos just stayed silent, letting her have her space.
The duo put all their new items away, and Leona jotted down all the coin.
“Where’d you get it all from?” Kryos asked.
At that, Leona brightened a little bit. “Well, I am an Infiltrator now, Tier III. While I was being chased by those Mudhook folk, I was able to spot others in their crew—they have a stupid symbol on the back of their hands—and was able to snatch more purses.” She frowned, then reached into her hip pouch and pulled out a silver nugget. “I also have this, but I wasn’t sure if I should put it into the vault.”
The moment she pulled it out, Kryos felt his treasure sense—and it was the same nearly sick treasure sense as when he was at the back chasm of the mine in Suncrest. “Do not put that in my hoard,” Kryos said.
“Why?”
“I don’t know why, just don’t.”
Leona shrugged. “It feels weird. I think there’s something wrong with this silver.” She put it back in her hip pouch. “I’ll just keep it separate for now. Maybe we will find a silversmith eventually who can look at it.”
Kryos nodded as he saw her dump several small sacks of coins into the vault—his true hoard. It made him giddy, and he felt that swelling heat in his chest. “Great job, Leona.” He looked up at her. “You did amazingly well.”
She smiled, then that smile faded, and she went outside.
Kryos sealed the vault and locked it. He let out a sigh of relief as his true hoard was, now, quite full, and felt like it was his vault. Nice and safe. This was the first time he had opened it, checked the contents, and closed it himself since Leona had put her savings, gems, and jewelry inside it. The hoard did not care when the wealth had been earned, it only cared when the hoard was his, and apparently that was when he saw the wealth he had amassed with his own eyes.
[Your Hoard has reached the EHV (effective hoard value) to qualify for a level up!]
[You have gained 6 levels! Level 18, Level 19, Level 20, Level 21, Level 22, Level 23!]
[Choose 6 Stat Points to Allocate!]
Excellent, Kryos thought. I’ll put four into Strength, one into Vitality, and one into Essence.
[Confirmed!]
[You have reached a level increment of 5!]
[You have gained a Skill point!]
[Unlock a new Skill, or Enhance an existing Skill?]
Let’s go with Pressure Field and max that out. Then, on my next increment of five, I can go for a new Skill.
[Confirmed!]
[Pressure Field III.]
[In addition to the other effects, the pressure slowly tears away at matter, dealing a small amount of damage while the field is active. Only applies to foes targeted by the area of effect.]
[You have reached a level increment of 10 (Level 21)!]
[You have gained a Trait point!]
[Unlock a new Trait, or Enhance an existing Trait?]
I want to go with Mass Instinct.
[Confirmed!]
[Mass Instinct II.]
[The bonus impact behind your strikes increases in severity.]
Kryos grinned, then he got out of the wagon, and paused. Leona was just staring out at the road, towards the city. He walked up behind her. She spoke as he approached. “You saved me again,” she softly said.
“I didn’t hurt you, right?” he asked, feeling concerned. “I had to protect your neck, and then get you away from the knife—”
Leona turned to him, and he could see she had been crying. She had dried the tears though. “You didn’t hurt me. But I shouldn’t have been caught off guard like that.” She looked back to the town, now gone over the horizon. “I . . . damnit, I’m better than that.”
Kryos didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. Instead he just stood there. After a good thirty seconds, he felt like he had to break the silence. “Should I cook up one of the special meals then? Something to cheer us up?”
Leona shook her head. “No. Let’s go simple. That’s for celebrations.” She lowered her voice. “This isn’t worth celebrating, even though we got out relatively unscathed.” She walked back toward the wagon. “Come on, let’s make some food. I’ve got a side project to work on.”
Kryos followed her, grabbed the brazier, and cleared some of the grass away with his clawed feet so they wouldn’t start a fire on the plains. He began cooking up the usual hardtack stew, and he learned what Leona wanted the tarpaulin for. She laid it out on the grass, then headed over to a copse of trees not too far away, and came back with smaller branches, sticks, leaves, and then began grabbing huge clusters of grass—both dried and fresh—and then began sticking it to the surface.
By the time the food was ready, her project was halfway done. “It’s camouflage,” she said. “We can throw it over the wagon before we go to sleep. It should help a bit while we’re out here.”
“Very smart,” Kryos said as he sat down next to her, handed her a bowl, and began eating his portion.
She scooted closer to him so their knees were touching as they sat cross-legged and both ate in silence. After she finished her first serving, and he went to fetch her seconds, she said, “You did well in town.”
“Thanks,” Kryos replied as he came back with her second portion. “I just followed someone’s advice.”
“Oh?”
“My mom. She always told me that I’m a dragon, so I should be a dragon. If people are afraid of me, use that fear.” He tapped his spoon on the side of his bowl. “In Suncrest, I got to be kind first. Here, they decided what I was before I opened my mouth.”
Leona looked toward the dark road behind them. “Most places will.”
His claws tightened around the bowl. “Then most places can be afraid first.”
Leona frowned and looked at him. “But we also need to build a reputation. Dragontrail is an Adventuring Guild. We need a positive reputation.”
Kryos nodded as he took another bite of the hardtack and salt pork stew. “I know,” he replied. “I’ll try to stick to my dad’s advice when I can. But if people are going to treat me badly just because of what I am, without even giving me a chance? Then I’m following my mom’s advice.”